Seems like a strange thing to say, and admit, doesn’t it? But yet, it’s true.
A couple of weeks ago, I didn’t really even know what a blog was. I had a vague idea, but if I would have been pressed for answer, I would have stammered, “Uh, well, you write what you want, I guess? For free. So, I don’t really get the point.”
Fast forward two weeks and that’s probably still my answer! I’m still learning and much like when I was writing my cozy mystery series, I have no plot outline. I fly by the seat of my pants, to use an old saying. I’m showing my age by even using that saying, and you know what? I don’t even care.
There’s a certain beauty in no longer caring and embracing uncertainty. It makes you feel so free! I don’t mean not caring about things that matter, don’t get me wrong. I am an Empath, therefore I am an extremely, over-the-top, caring person, to the point where it can affect my health without me even realizing it.
I never knew this about myself until the past year or so of my life; suddenly, so much makes sense. But that’s another story, for another time.
When I talk about not caring, I mean about superficial things. My age. If my silver streak at the front of my head is showing. Is the nail polish on my toes chipped? Whether or not my hair is done or if I have make-up on. The fact that I live in yoga clothes or bathing suits (during those few warm months here). Planning everything to the smallest detail; always having a plan for everything.
Nope! That’s the old me. These were the superficial things that bogged me down and that I know bog down many others.
The only thing that I never really planned out was my writing. It was the one aspect of my life where I was free. I just did it. I’d sit down and let the fingers loose on the keyboard and magic happened. The murder mysteries I wrote were a mystery even to me.
I don’t have a formal background in this field. In college, I studied retail management and while I always had a knack for writing, I never took any extra courses in how to actually write; I was afraid it would change my style and make everything more structured. It wouldn’t be “me” anymore. Mistakes and all, I had to feel authentic to myself.
I’ll admit, I sometimes even forget the proper use of apostrophe’s. Did I use that one correctly? I’m not sure, nor do I care to google it. I won’t get hung up about it. And the feels great.
Did I plan out in great detail what my blog would be about? Hell, no. I had some vague midnight scratchings on several post-it notes. Trust me, they are scratchings; my hand writing is horrible.
I knew, to a degree, that I needed a new platform to promote my existing novels. My old website was onerous to program, required energy and patience that I no longer have, and simply wasn’t fun. I’m not sure how many years I have left in me, so what I do have in my life, I have to enjoy.
I have a wonderful first chapter written for a new cozy mystery series. I know it would be as light-hearted and funny as my first series was. But if I’m being honest with myself, I also know how much it took out of me to write it. By the end, it wasn’t fun any more.
This? This is fun. It’s short and sweet, it changes weekly depending on my mood and what strikes a chord with me. I have some loose ideas on a somewhat general direction I’d like to see it go. I retain my identity as a writer. Most importantly, I get to continue writing and to try to amuse people. Yes, it’s free, but maybe, just maybe, along the way, something I say might positively influence someone.
So, while I do have some hazy thoughts about this blog thing, no, I still don’t know exactly what I’m doing. And yes, I love it! It’s an adventure. It’s a mystery unfolding before me , and I feel so free.
Let your life be an adventure.
In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Refuse to entertain old pain.” -Mary Manin Morrissey
What have you let go that doesn’t serve you anymore? Feel free to comment and share.